


The Seed of a Plan

by kattahj



Category: Zorro (TV 1990)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattahj/pseuds/kattahj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diego is looking for a way for Zorro to help a local family, and Alejandro might just be able to provide him with the clue he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seed of a Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dynapink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dynapink/gifts).



Diego's eyes were fixed on the manuscript before him, but his mind was miles away, racing from the outskirts of the pueblo where a dysentery epidemic had killed a dozen people, to the prison in its center where the Amaya brothers were being held for failure to pay their debts.

He could do nothing about the epidemic, beyond some monetary relief. The Amaya brothers were another matter. Their imprisonment was, like so many of these cases, a travesty. Mateo and Marco Amaya had managed their joint farm with utmost diligence for years, despite constant harassment by the Alcalde, who maintained that their gypsy blood made them innately unreliable. Zorro had helped them out more than once, as had Diego under his own identity, while the Alcalde's grudge grew ever greater as he dug through old documents for any law he could wield against them.

This fall, the tender balance had been broken. A poor harvest had endangered the survival of the family, and Marco had taken up work as a blacksmith, getting a big order for tent poles and other essentials for the military. Sabotage had ruined that work and would have placed Marco in jail, even then, had not Zorro stepped in to prove that the sabotage had come from two of the Alcalde's soldiers. The Alcalde had denied any knowledge of it, but he'd been forced to let Marco go. Still, the economic trouble remained.

And now, with this illness, Mateo's oldest son had died. Diego could not fault the family for giving up and deciding to sell the farm and move to Mexico City, even if it did feel like surrender. The trouble was, the Alcalde had seized both Marco and the money for the journey, claiming it as payment for the blacksmith work. When Mateo had tried to argue their case, he had been arrested as well. Now the family suffered a very real risk of seeing their last chance disappear.

The easiest thing for Diego to do would of course be to pay the family's way and get them out legally, but when he offered, Marco had outright refused, saying that the De La Vegas had done enough to help already. Diego might have tried harder, except that paying the debt would mean acknowledging its validity, and essentially enabling the Alcalde to keep pushing for more. That didn't sit right with him.

Option number two was of course for Zorro to break them out. That was easier, quicker, and what he longed to do – but also, he suspected, what the Alcalde expected him to do. It would leave the Amayas as fugitives, criminals, exactly what they'd fought so hard to prove that they were not.

He needed something that would make the Alcalde give up. Or maybe, a less appealing but more likely option, something that would make the Alcalde believe he'd won, without actually winning.

What, though? His mind dug through the problem, again and again, finding no answer. The dysentery was one thing, that was an act of God, but he could not let this family be destroyed through human evil, when it should be in his power to prevent it.

“Diego?” His father's voice finally, after some repetition, caught his attention. “You're deep in thought, son. Is something the matter?”

Diego sighed. There was no harm in discussing the Amaya case – Lord knew they'd done it often enough before – but since his approach now was purely in Zorro territory, he couldn't bring up any actual plans.

“No, it's just...” His eyes fell to his lap again, and the manuscript provided a fortunate excuse, as well as some respite for his fatigued mind. “My good friend Blakeney has been kind enough to translate this manuscript to English and send it to me. It's by Doctor Sömmering of Germany, a most accomplished gentleman, and it describes a prehistoric creature called the Ornithocephalus Antiquus. Fascinating stuff. Scientists disagree whether it was an aquatic creature or a winged one, and if so, a bat, bird or reptile. Sömmering has studied its skeleton extensively and makes some very good points, but I don't see how the sketches can possibly be correct. Maybe I've misunderstood something... perhaps Blakeney has made a mistake in his translation, or my own English is not as good as I flatter myself to believe.”

“I've never known you to fail in language skills _or_ science,” his father said drily. “And I'm sure Doctor Sömmering knows what he's talking about. I'd say it's your friend Blakeney.”

“He'll be touched to know you have such faith in him,” Diego said with a tiny smile.

“Well, if the creature's extinct, it doesn't matter either way, does it?”

“It does,” Diego protested. “Of course it does. It teaches us more about this world, the way everything is connected. The way the earth once looked, with dragon-like creatures flying through the air...”

“Was it truly dragon-like?” Don Alejandro asked. There was a new hint of interest in his voice, and he left his seat to take a look at the sketches.

“Perhaps. That's one of the things they can't seem to agree on. Some call it a reptile, but others have suggested it was both bird and mammal, a kind of gryphon.”

“Imagine that.” Don Alejandro sounded wistful. “What a pity that they're extinct! They would have been a sight to see.”

“But also rather dangerous, don't you think?” Diego asked. He was starting to enjoy this intellectual discussion and the break it gave him from his worries. “They seem to have had a rather impressive set of teeth.”

“Yes, but the adventure of it!”

Diego smiled. There was something of Don Quixote left in his father's disposition, in the way his eyes lit up at the thought of these strange beasts.

“If it is adventure you seek, I think there have been more impressive beasts than this. The mastodon, for one. The puzzle is what intrigues me.” He traced the sketches with a finger, tapping at the places that he couldn't make sense of. “What manner of creature was it really? What did it look like?”

“Working that out from some old bones would be a remarkable feat indeed,” Don Alejandro said. “Now, anyone can tell a cow's skull from a horse's, but to reconstruct a creature no one has seen before? It's like solving jigsaws in the dark.”

“It is indeed. Incomplete jigsaws, at that.”

“And dreadfully old.” Don Alejandro smiled. “They don't even have the decency to be buried in graves with names on them, like humans. I suppose that's why ancient kings were buried with their treasure, to make sure no one would mistake prince for pauper. The bones, after all, are alike.”

“That's not necessarily...” Diego started, and then paused. “Good Lord.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I just had a thought... concerning the nature of this beast.”

Diego forced himself to remain calm and continue the conversation a while yet, as the details of the plan formed in his mind. No doubt his father noticed that he got progressively more distracted as the evening went on, but would be attributing it, like so many times before, to his head being up in the clouds.

Which wasn't so far off, though it was less heaven that concerned him than its local representative on earth.

At long last, he could slip off into the cave, where he quickly changed his clothes. He was saddling Toronado when Felipe entered, raising his eyebrows.

“ _Do you need help?”_ the boy signed.

“I'm all but done here,” Diego said. “But thank you.”

“ _Are you going to the prison?”_

“Soon. Or maybe tomorrow, it depends. First, I'm going to church.”

* * *

 

The Amayas' funeral the following Saturday was a quiet affair. Even the families weren't present, having left the morning before to escape the Alcalde's wrath. His plans for the brothers' punishment had been thwarted by their untimely deaths, when lightning struck the jail and the entire cell burned down. He took it out on the surviving Amaya family members, causing them to pack up their belongings with double haste.

“It's a shame,” Don Alejandro said morosely as he took his seat in the church. “We should have found a way to get them out. Instead, here they are, dead in a meaningless accident, while their families are driven out of town.”

“I know,” Diego said, mind occupied by the sight of Sergeant Mendoza, near the church entrance. There to guard the church on the Alcalde's orders, no doubt. If he caught on, the whole affair might be in jeopardy. Padre Benitez had been amenable, but not quite as amenable as Diego would have liked him to be. Then again, Mendoza wasn't the kind to guess an answer not readily apparent.

Diego sighed, figuring that the sergeant could stay for now, but that there may be cause for a contingency plan later on.

“Even with Zorro, this town's going to hell,” Don Alejandro said, misunderstanding the emotion behind that sigh.

“Requiem æternam dona eis Domine,” Padre Benitez started, “et lux perpetua luceat eis.”

“If only Zorro had done something... but then, he couldn't have foreseen that lightning storm.”

“Strange, that,” Diego mumbled. “Rain all over town, yet the lightning... just in that one place.”

“I did hear the thunder.”

“Did you?” Felipe had been diligent, then. Diego's eyes met that of his accomplice, who hurried to look down into his prayer book, but couldn't quite hide the smile.

Further off, Señora Maldonado placed her grandson on her lap, more for her sake than his, since the little boy was too preoccupied with the pattern in his church bench to cause any kind of trouble. For a boy who had just lost both parents to dysentery, he was remarkably upbeat, but then, he was too small to fully understand the situation.

Diego remembered when the Señora – Hawa, her first name was – had been just a young woman at the mission, one of very few members of the Nisenan tribe there. Even the other Indians at the mission didn't speak her language, and she'd been rather isolated. Now she was a widow well in her forties, and only the boy kept her from being as alone as she'd been back then. Losing her only child and son-in-law like that could have made anyone bitter; it showed a great generosity of spirit that she'd agreed to this.

Having them both there was a risky business, but it was yet another concession to the priest's conscience, and Diego had to admit that the alternative would have been highly unethical.

Not that this wasn't, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Padre Benitez finished his chanting, and the placing of the symbols commenced.

“I suppose the upside is that with the jail wrecked by fire, it will be a while before the Alcalde can make use of it again.”

“Not a long enough while, I fear,” Diego said, then fell silent as Padre Benitez resumed speaking.

“O God, almighty Father, our faith professes that your Son died and rose again, mercifully grant, that through this mystery your servants, who have fallen asleep in Christ, may rejoice to rise again through him.”

Usually, the names of said servants would be mentioned at this point, but the priest skipped that part. Diego didn't think anyone but him noticed, but as the ceremony progressed and no name was ever said, there was a certain unrest in the seats. During communion, the sound of the church door made him turn around, and he saw Mendoza and Corporal Sepulveda slipping outside as quietly as possible. Judging by the brief glimpse he got of their faces, they were still oblivious. Perhaps they had duties to see to outside, or perhaps they had been a little negligent in their confessions lately.

The ritual was soon wrapped up, and people started clearing out of the church. Señora Maldonado, however, walked up to Padre Benitez, asking him about something in a low voice. No doubt she was inquiring how long this charade would have to last.

Don Alejandro, too, moved towards the chancel, with Diego and Felipe following behind. Felipe raised his eyebrows at Diego, who gave a small shrug. In all honesty, he was rather hoping his father _would_ find out the truth about the Amayas. This had made his heart so heavy, and it brought Diego pain to know he himself could do nothing to alleviate it.

“Padre Benitez,” Don Alejandro said. “I just wanted to know if there's anything more we can do, in terms of... well, the costs, or... anything.”

“Thank you for the kindness,” the priest said. “A donation is always welcome, but in this particular case, it won't be necessary.” His eyes drifted towards Señora Maldonado.

Don Alejandro caught the gaze and asked, with only a slight tinge of puzzlement in his voice, “Señora, I didn't realize you and the Amayas were so close.”

“We aren't,” she said curtly, rocking the little boy on her hip. Her eyes were filled with tears, but by keeping her head high she stopped them from falling.

“The De La Vegas are good friends of the Amayas,” Padre Benitez said discreetly. “And of this pueblo.”

The señora scrutinized their faces, and suddenly smiled through the tears, relaxing her stance. “Well. When Zorro asked for help...”

“Zorro came to you?” Alejandro said, surprised.

The smile widened. “My friends call me _Ne Hawa_ , mother fox. What else is a mother fox to do, but assist the young cub the best she can? Even if it does mean delaying my daughter's burial.”

“Are you saying that was...” Alejandro started.

“Your daughter? Good Lord!” Diego said, feigning the same astonishment his father no doubt felt.

“At least now I shan't have to put her body in that cemetary. Isn't that right?” she asked the priest, who reluctantly sighed and nodded.

“Zorro will return them to you tonight. After that, you can follow your own rituals, as we agreed.”

Diego had to admit that, while he'd been hesitant to reveal Zorro's plan to the lady, the priest's choice to use this particular young couple for their ruse had made it simpler. Any member of the church would have been horrified to have their family's remains burned, or their names never spoken at the funeral. To Señora Maldonado, both of those things were preferable to the traditional Catholic funeral that would otherwise have been her only option. Even so, it was an unpleasant business, and it was with great honesty that he said:

“That's a great favor you've done them. You're a remarkable woman.”

“If I can save this town a few more orphans, it's worth it,” she said.

“Of course. I am so sorry for your loss.”

“As am I,” Don Alejandro said. “But if this was your family, then what of the real Amayas?”

“On their way to Mexico City,” Padre Benitez said. “Zorro set up the fire, rigged the whole thing.”

“Oh, that is excellent news!” Don Alejandro clearly strained to keep his voice down in the excitement. “Did you hear that, Diego? You were right about the lightning. Clever of you – and damned clever of Zorro!”

The praise for both of his alter egos warmed Diego's heart, but not as much as the genuine happiness on his father's face. There was too little of that these days.

With all the injustice and abuse rampant in this town, and now disease and death to top it off, a happy ending was sometimes barely in sight. But watching his father's relief, and thinking of those families on the road south, far away from the Alcalde's power, Diego felt like they were just a little step closer.


End file.
